The Drabbles
by black4minister
Summary: A place for all the little Star Trek stories that pop into my head. They vary from humour to seriousness, and mostly feature Kirk, McCoy or Pike, with other crew making appearances. No Slash. First story - McCoy sleeps in the Clinic, Pike wonders why.
1. Asleep

**A/N: First, an explanation – I've created this story, The Drabbles, as a sort of dumping ground for all the Star Trek one-shots that seem to been flowing out of me since I started writing this fandom about four weeks ago. I didn't want to post them all individually, as that would be messy and time consuming, so I thought I'd put them all here for the convenience of anyone who wants to read them. They vary greatly, though tend to star either Jim, McCoy or Pike, with the other crew making appearance here and there. I already have four stories to go in here, and I'm sure there'll be more :-) **

**More specifically, this story doesn't really make much sense, or have any relevance, it just popped into my head and was mildly amusing. It's basically about what McCoy does when Jim takes up their room with a date – but told from Pike's point of view. Do tell me what you think!**

**Disclaimer: General disclaimer for all the stories here – I do not own Star Trek nor do I make any money out of this, I just have fun writing stories at three in the morning ;-p**

Captain Christopher Pike did not like the Medical Clinic on the Academy grounds. Well, to be fair he did not like any form of Medical Clinic; Bay or Hospital. A good friend, who was also CMO of the last ship he had Captained, had once said that he thought an aversion for medicine was a requirement for Command track personnel. It was true that Chris had never met a Captain, Commander, or Lieutenant that didn't try to avoid medical care like the plague. But that was getting off point.

Christopher Pike did not like being in the Medical Clinic on the Academy grounds, though at least today he was not the one in actual need of care. He had arrived a little while ago to conduct interviews with three cadets who had turned up in the Clinic sporting all the signs of a good bar fight. Chris had been called out of his bed at two in the morning after one of the cadets had admitted that the local authorities had been called. Starfleet could not afford to get a reputation with the Police and so Chris was here to sort it out. It was days – or nights more accurately – like this that he wished they would hurry up building his shiny new ship so he could get out of dealing with the petty grievances risen by cadets with more brawn then brain. But the wonderful Enterprise had another year or so before it would be space worthy and so here he was – hurrying back to his bed having knocked some sense back into the three young men down the corridor.

It was as he was walking through the admittance area, with its rows of beds and hospital green privacy curtains, that he was stopped in his tracks by a sight in the corner of his eye. Turning he confirmed what he had thought. Yes, that really was Cadet McCoy, or Doctor McCoy as he was inside this facility, asleep on a bed, the curtains pulled half the way around, but with a gap big enough for Chris to have seen him through. The younger man was not wearing a white coat that would signify that he was on call, in fact, he was in his red cadet uniform. Chris could clearly see the bright colour over the top of the hospital blanket McCoy had pulled up to his shoulders.

Chris sighed. He was tired, it was the middle of the night...but the cadets were his responsibility – even the ones who were fully qualified doctors and were more than old enough to be looking after themselves. He made his way over to the nurses station where a young blond nurse, (why was everyone getting younger every year, thought Chris), was scrolling through information on a PADD. She looked up and smiled as he approached, standing a little straighter in difference to his rank.

"Sir," she began, "What can I help you with?"

Chris gestured over his shoulder to the bed where McCoy slept, "Why is Cadet-I mean Doctor-McCoy asleep in that bed over there? Is he on call?"

The nurse peered over where he had indicated and then smiled at him, "No, he's not on call, sir, but he sleeps here pretty often, especially on the weekends." She didn't offer up any more information so Chris thanked her and decided to go straight to the source. He felt it was definitely his responsibility to find out why one of his cadets was not in his dorm room, especially if it was happening regularly.

He pulled back the curtain and stood beside the sleeping form of the Doctor. Deciding the direct method was always the best he raised his voice just enough to wake the man. "McCoy," A pause, "McCoy?"

Most cadets would have jumped off the bed and to attention, but Pike, who had been the one to sign up the then newly divorced and very drunk McCoy, didn't expect that from the grumpy Southern Doctor. As it was, McCoy rolled over to lye on his back, throwing an arm up to shield his eyes from the harsh lights, and peered blearily up at Chris.

"Sir?" he sounded slightly confused and very asleep.

"McCoy," Chris resisted the urge to speak slowly to ensure he was understood, "Why are you asleep in a Clinic bed?"

McCoy's answer was muffled by his arm, and he had closed his eyes again. "Jim's got a girl," was all he said, as if that explained everything.

"'Jim's got a girl'?" Sounded like the name of a bad romance movie. "I presume you're talking about Cadet Kirk?" Chris was aware that Kirk had made friends with the doctor – it made sense really, they were adults in a sea of fresh-faced cadets. One made an adult by age, the other by life experience.

McCoy didn't seem to be waking up more with time, "Yeah – Jim." It was even more mumbled then the last response.

Chris had a lot of patience, four years of dealing with Academy cadets and a lifetime dealing with idiots, both above and below him in the command change, would do that for you. Now he sighed lightly, prepared for a series of short answers, "And why does Kirk having a girl mean you have to sleep in the Clinic?"

"He's in the dorm room."

"And why are you not in your own dorm room?"

"He's in _our _room."

"Kirk and you weren't assigned as room mates." Chris knew this as those of Medical speciality were rarely assigned room mates out of their field, mostly due to the completely different training they went through, and the crazy hours they had to pull in the hospital.

McCoy's only response this time was a slightly humour filled, "Hmm," He looked like he was going to role back over.

Alarm bells went off in Chris' head – it was far too late in the night (or would that be early in the morning?) to be dealing with Kirk's genius laced form of trouble making. If he went digging, Chris was sure he'd find a well hidden hack in the room assignment computer, but he was pretty sure he didn't want to go and do that. What difference did it make any way? If there was one thing a Captain needed to know it was how to pick your battles. He would leave that one alone, he decided.

As he was deciding this, McCoy had opened his eyes once more, arm still resting against his head, and was giving Chris a look that told him a doctor would never be impressed by stripes on a shirt cuff. "If you don't mind, sir, I had three lectures today and a shift in Trauma – if there's nothing else I can help you with I'd really like to go back to sleep." With that he rolled onto his side, his back to the Captain, and Chris found himself soundly dismissed. He didn't bother commenting on it, just left the doctor to it as he made his way back to his own bed.


	2. Twenty Nine

**A/N: This story was inspired by watching the movie far too many times, and thinking about the scene when Pike dares Jim to do better than his father. Then I was writing something else about Jim's birthday and how it's on the day his father died, and talking to my sis about how that would affect Jim, and this sort of wrote itself onto the page, (seems to be happening a lot with this fandom, lol).**

Twenty-nine

Twenty-nine.

To say it was the least of his achievements in Starfleet would be putting it mildly. In reality, turning twenty-nine wasn't even a blip on the radar of a career that in five years had seen more success and heroics than any career before it. Reaching twenty-nine wasn't what James T. Kirk was going to be remembered for. Not the 'youngest Captain ever'; 'saviour of Earth'; 'son of George Kirk'.

Son of George Kirk.

He had spent this birthday just like every other in the last five years. He had smiled at the crews' enthusiastic birthday greetings; Scotty's bottle of illegally brewed whiskey; Spock's slightly confused but well meant wishes. He had told Bones that this was the big one, this was the last year before he became a truly ancient thirty. He had laughed when the thirty-four year old doctor had rolled his eyes in derision. He had bounced around the ship, had a sparring match with the head of security, been his usual self, given no sign of distress. He thought maybe Pike knew, or at least suspected, when his superior officer had called to offer his own Happy Birthday, but the older man had said nothing. And now he was locked in his quarters, which was the one place no one would look for him. He didn't have a bottle with him, he didn't feel up to the lull of alcohol. He preferred, just this once, to feel the sharp pain radiating from his chest. He was twenty-nine today.

It had been eight years now – eight years since the night that had changed his life forever. It was such a simple thing that Pike had said to him - "I dare you to do better'. It was silly really, just a meaningless challenge, but it had meant everything to Jim. No one had ever said that to him before. He had been told that his father was a hero, that he should live up to him, he had even been told that he was like him. But no one had ever told him be could be _better_ then that sainted figure that was his father. He had always loved a challenge, and he had been trying to live up to that one for five years now. He liked to think that he had at least partially succeeded. Saving Earth out weighed the eight hundred souls on the Kelvin, though Vulcan remained a heavy pull on his heart. He was the youngest Captain Starfleet had ever had, he had a drawer full of medals that he never looked at.

But today, today was the first time he truly felt like he had surpassed the man that was the legend of his childhood. Today he turned twenty-nine – one year older then his father ever had a chance to be. Today he had done something his father never had – he had survived. And it hurt, boy did it ever hurt. People say you don't feel any different from the day before your birthday to the day after, but Jim found himself staring at the world through twenty-nine year old eyes and thinking about how his father never had. The pain was real enough that he was hunched over, sitting on the floor next to his bed. He wasn't sure he could straighten up right now, his chest felt like it was on fire and the death grip he had on his folded up legs was all that was holding in the tears. Because he refused to cry – not on his birthday. He had never cried on his birthday – even though he had spent them standing at the Kelvin memorial, or listening to his mother sobbing in the bathroom. He had never cried.

He was twenty-nine and this was the day that had ended his father's life forever. This day, that had finally made him more then his father was, finally won the challenge set by Pike all those years ago – this day had robbed him of a childhood, a role model, a father. He couldn't, he just couldn't. And so he cried. For the first time in his life he cried for his father, for the loss he'd suffered, for all the things he should have had, all the memories and happiness he'd never known. He cried for the man who he looked so like, the man who had given him his 'no scenario is a no-win scenario' attitude. He cried for a tragedy the likes of which Starfleet had not seen again until Jim's cursed graduate class. He cried through his twenty-nine year old eyes until he had no tears left for the father he had surpassed, but had never known.

He fell asleep with his head resting against the bed behind him, legs slowly relaxing out in front of him, the soft hum of _his_ starship lulling him to sleep.


	3. To a Great Man

**A/N: READ THIS! This a Deathfic people, you have been warned – if you don't like them then don't read this, just skip onto the next chapter...or wait for the next chapter if I haven't posted it yet :-) **

**So for those of you who are going to read this anyway – I was in a particularly melancholy mood brought on by listening to a song called 'If you're reading this' by Tim McGraw. It's a really lovely song but could reduce anyone to tears. And then this just popped into my head and I wrote the whole thing in maybe an hour. It's a what if case I guess, of if Jim had died too soon, personally I'm thinking some time during their first five year mission, that's where I see this. I'm pretty happy with how it turned out and I hope you like it too, do tell me what you think. **

The Way He Would Have Wanted It

James Tiberius Kirk had been a great man, and so it was no surprise that his funeral attracted crowds from all over. Half of Starfleet were there, dress uniforms startling against the blue summer sky. There were dignitaries and ambassadors from every country, planet and solar system that you could care to mention, varying outfits adding splashes of bright colour to the crowd. There were even some people from Riverside, Kirk's home town, though they had come more to look then to mourn. Just as Kirk had once expressed a hope for, there were several women crying, all beautiful and many dressed inappropriately for a funeral – it would have made him happy. The crowd filled the whole of the military cemetery, spilling out to where reporters stood outside the gate. And in the centre of it all the coffin lay, covered in a Starfleet flag. A single white lily lay on top of it – no one knew who had put it there. The ceremony had ended and the crowd where milling, filing past the coffin, some muttering a few words, most just staring silently at what was left of a hero. There was no family to offer condolences to, at least no family by blood...

As the crowds of mourners; gawkers and opportunists filed past, there was one group who stood still. Behind the coffin the officers and bridge crew of the Enterprise stood to stiff attention. They had been standing there for the entire ceremony, all straight backed and grim faced. Their uniforms were pristine, their eyes dry and focused somewhere above the heads of the crowd. They had stood through the run down of Kirk's great achievements, the greatest of which were not known to Starfleet and so not mentioned; the listing of the medals he had won, which he kept in a drawer and never looked at. They had stood still through the many speeches, most made by people who only knew the legend that was James Kirk, not the man. The crew stayed standing there, watching over their Captain, their friend, their brother, until the last of the crowd had given up and left, until the cemetery finally fell quiet and they were alone. Only then did each of them take one moment to stand by the coffin, touch it, say one word or another, before moving to the gate. When each had had their goodbye they walked to the nearest bar. Only when they were all seated with a drink in front of them, as well as one left to the side for Kirk, that Scott spoke.

"The Captain would have hated that stuffed-shirt show they just called a funeral." A chuckle, so soft it almost sounded like a cry, went around the group.

"He could never have stayed still and quiet for that long," Sulu smiled at the thought, "He would have had to say something, or do something, probably completely inappropriate."

"Wasn't everything he did inappropriate?" Uhura couldn't quiet bring herself to smile.

"He would have liked more drinking, maybe some singing," Chekov stared down at his own drink, "And for someone to have shut up those wind-bags making the speeches." They all nodded at that.

Uhura spoke, "I think we should have a toast – one that Jim would have wanted," She then began, lifting her glass into the air, "To a greater man then I ever admitted to."

Scotty was next, "To a man who knew no boundaries – in physics or life."

"To a man to whom the stars where no limit," chipped in Sulu, raising his glass.

"To a man who did not believe in no-win scenarios," Spock's voice was quiet, almost regretful.

"To a man who was both kind and fearless," Chekov's voice quavered just a little.

McCoy stood as he raised his own glass. The group fell silent, as McCoy was Jim's oldest friend, his closest ally. He took a breath before speaking, "To a man of many names – to a friend I would have died for, a Captain I would have followed into hell, a hero I was proud of." Here he paused, as though he couldn't go on, but then he rallied, "To the head of our family, to the man who brought us all together, kept us all alive, showed us all a better life – to Captain James Tiberius Kirk. To Jim." He downed his glass in one go as he sat. The others followed suit and the rest of the night was spent in irreverent and inebriated recollection of the crazy escapades that made James Tiberius Kirk a great man, filled with laughter and loud shouts.


	4. The World You're Waking Up To

**A/N: Hey everyone, sorry for the delay on posting stories – I've moved to London for the summer to do volunteer work, so as you can imagine the last few weeks have been a haze of suitcases, new places, and new things to learn. I'm not getting as much writing done as I had hoped, but have no fear, I will fit it in however I can.**

**This story was supposed to be funnier then it actually turned out – originally I was thinking what it must have been like for Pike to wake up and find that most of his ship was blown up, all of his officer had been promoted, demoted, or replaced, and they were moving at a snail's pace home. It made me laugh to think about it, so I wrote it down for you guys. But like I said, it turned out a little more serious then I have originally planned. I hope you like it anyway though, and do let me know what you think!**

**Disclaimer: Very much not mine.**

Waking up reminded Pike of swimming in the sea on summer holidays. His family always went to the sea in the summer and once his big sister had dared him to swim as far down as he could. Never one to pass up a challenge he had gone far out and started down. It had been fine for awhile – well, for as long as he could hold his breath. Then he realised that he needed breath to get back up as well. He had started up, his lungs had been screaming for air, his arms heavy – it had felt like the sea was trying to pull him back, like it had wanted to keep him. Waking up right then felt like that, like the warm comfortable darkness wanted to keep him under, wanted to smoother him. But just like when he had been swimming in the sea he fought now, fought to get to the surface. His mind was slow, confused, but he knew he needed to wake, knew there was something, something big, waiting just out of the grasp of his memory.

Memory came flooding back just as he also won back his hearing. Noises washed over him as all that had happened in the last two days (at least it was only two days that he knew of) came crashing into his mind. The call for aid from Vulcan; the maiden voyage of his new ship; Kirk sneaking aboard; Nero's sneering face; Vulcan disappearing into an unforgiving cloud of darkness. He could feel his heart beating faster as his mind filled in more and more blanks – it was then that the noise around him started to form into actual words.

"He's showing signs of waking up." A soft female voice, Pike was pretty sure it was one of the nurses he had only met briefly in his time as Captain, "Go and fetch Doctor McCoy."

McCoy. So McCoy was in charge of his care? He was glad, the man was undoubtedly a fine doctor, though he was surprised it wasn't Doctor Pruri, who was CMO after all. Though perhaps there were more serious cases that needed Pruri's attention. McCoy would look after him, he knew. He had been the one to recruit the newly divorced, and at the time extremely drunk, doctor into Starfleet. It was only when he later found out about McCoy's phobia of space that he realised it had been entirely the alcohol and nothing of his recruiting skills that had had the younger man on that shuttle. The only black mark to McCoy's record was sneaking Kirk aboard this very vessel. Though he didn't think he'd be holding that against the good doctor, as a vague memory of Kirk's grim face and a supporting arm around his shoulders as the transport beam started, came to his mind. Now he could hear McCoy's own gruff voice.

"What is it Chapel?" Nurse Chapel, he thought, that was the owner of the soft voice.

"His heart rate is rising, and he's showing increased brain function."

Someone, presumably McCoy, called his name, "Captain Pike? Sir, can you hear me? Can you open your eyes?" He'd have liked to have obliged but right now he thought that working ears were as much as his body could manage. McCoy seemed to give up and go back to speaking to the nurse. "Monitor him carefully Chapel, and notify me if there are any changes at all. I had hoped he wouldn't wake up until we got back to Earth, but Jim says it'll be at least eighteen hours before we reach home, so I guess it was too much to hope for him to stay unconscious that long. Still, this is earlier then I thought."

"He's a strong man." He could hear a smile in Chapel's voice, and a light chuckle when McCoy just grunted in response. Then Chapel's soft voice was by his ear, "Don't you listen to him, Sir, he's really very pleased with how well you're doing, he's just far too gruff to admit it."

Any other day it would have made Pike laugh, but right now he was busy thinking about what McCoy had said. Why on Earth, and all other planets one could care to name, was it going to take them eighteen hours to get home? Even at just Warp 3, not even half what the Enterprise could do, it should only take two hours to get from Vulcan to Earth. And if he remembered correctly, they had been heading towards Earth anyway when the final battle broke out. He thought leaving Spock in charge would ensure things were done properly, but now he was wondering what his First Officer had done to his ship – his _brand new_ ship. Pike did his Captain's stripes proud when it was this thought, and not those of good health, that had him forcing his eyes open. He then closed them again quickly. He was sure the lights in sickbay weren't usually this bright, though he could remember bygone days of concussions earned on away missions that had ended in much the same way. He took a breath and opened his eyes again, this time allowing them to adjust to the brightness. As the world came into focus he found himself staring at the kind face that went with the soft voice of Nurse Chapel. She was smiling at him even as she gestured to someone across the room.

"Welcome back, Sir," was all she said before she was replaced by McCoy – or more accurately, McCoy's hand waving a tricorder around his head. It was moving too fast for his tired eyes and he tried to swat it away. His arm only twitched. He wasn't sure if McCoy noticed the look on his face, or the increase in his heart rate, but either way he found a reassuring hand on his arm, and the doctor's face lost some of it's usual scowl.

"Easy there, Sir, give your body a minute to wake up. Do you remember what happened?"

Pike didn't bother trying to nod. He would never admit it but he was scared that even that simple movement wouldn't work – because yes, he did remember what happened, "Yes, I remember." His voice sounded rough and unused, but he hadn't been asleep that long, had he? If it was going to take them eighteen hours to get back to Earth from here then he surely couldn't have been out that long. "Just tell me the damage, McCoy – then I've got questions of my own."

McCoy gave him the cliff notes version – damage to the lower spinal cord, surgery required to remove the creature, legs none responsive for now, arms just weak, a whole lot of rehab in his future. McCoy then stopped staring at the monitors and machines to look right at him, "Now I know you have questions, Sir, so I'll do my best to answer them."

"What is wrong with the ship that it's going to take us so long to return to Earth?" McCoy was obviously expecting medical questions, if the look that graced his face was anything to go by.

"Sir," The Doctor ran a hand through his hair and Pike noticed for the first time how tired he looked, an untreated cut above his eyebrow, "Is there any point in telling you to let the crew worry about that and you just worry about yourself?"

Pike almost laughed, but it was just slightly too grim a situation for it, "None at all, Doctor."

McCoy shook his head, "Of course not, no wonder Jim looks up to you. Well, in answer to your question I don't really know why we're going what you call 'slow', though judging by how fast the stars are flying by the ports, I'd say we're going plenty fast enough thank you." Pike tried not to roll his eyes. Even three years at the Academy hadn't completely cured McCoy's phobia. "But Jim did say something about dumping out a warp core or something to make an explosion big enough to get us out of the black hole – I don't know, I wasn't really listening, it's been kinda hectic in here you know."

Pike almost sat up, but caught himself before McCoy had to restrain him, "What do you mean – they dumped the warp core? But that could have vaporised the whole ship! What the hell is Spock playing at? I left him in charge because I thought he'd take care of the Enterprise, not pull ridiculous stunts like that!"

McCoy just frowned at him, "Calm down, Sir, I'm not about to let you undo all my hard work. And as for Spock," The frown turned into a slightly sheepish look, if Pike could ever really associate that term with the doctor, "You see, about Spock-" He was cut off as the doors to medical slid open and Jim Kirk came in.

Pike rolled his head to the right at the noise, and was struck with the difference in the young man who just a few hours ago had been on his bridge, having stowed away but still defiantly arguing his point. Kirk was, for want of a better phrase, a firecracker. He never entered a room with anything less then a dramatic bang, and was known to not so much walk as _bound_ around. He was always ready with either an easy smile or a fast fist. That was the James Kirk Pike had picked up in a bar in Iowa three years ago. That was the James Kirk he had watched excel and fail in almost equal measure at the Academy. But it was not that James Kirk that entered Medical Bay now. The James Kirk who entered through the dull metal doors was dressed in a black under-shirt, dusty and dishevelled; his face was sporting bruises that rivalled the ones Pike had first seen on him; and he looked dog tired. He still filled the room, but now it was with an undefinable sense of _command _that Pike had once admired in his first ever Captain, and that he knew people admired in him. As Kirk made his way in, the staff around him straightened to face him and he dipped his head to each of them as he walked by. He no longer bound, but more strode, a finality in his step, (though judging by the way he was holding himself, he had far too many injuries to think of bounding anywhere). His face was stern, older, but his back was straight, his shoulders stiff. He was making his way over to McCoy when he noticed Pike's eyes on him, but rather then the thousand watt grin he was known for, just a small smile made its way onto his face, as he slapped a hand on McCoy's shoulder.

"It's great to see you awake, Sir. Well done, Bones." McCoy just scowled in his direction as he once more pulled out his tricorder.

"Maybe now that you're here you'll stay still for five minutes so I can check you out," he said, trying to scan Kirk, only to have the younger man duck around him, still moving gingerly around what Pike was sure were broken ribs.

"Not now, Bones! I want to talk to Pike – that is Captain Pike, sorry Sir." He gave Pike a not really apologetic look.

McCoy just frowned some more, "I don't want you tiring him out Jim, he's only just woken up. And if you're going to talk to him then it won't be a problem for you to stand still long enough for me to scan y-" He was interrupted by a call from across the room, where a dark-haired nurse was standing by another bed.

"Doctor McCoy! Jackson's pressure's dropping." The nurse had just finished when another one popped out from a room to the left of Pike, "Doctor – we're running out of Tyoxidol – is there more in the stores?"

McCoy sighed heavily as Jim grinned, "Looks like I'll have to wait Bones – duty calls!" The doctor made his way to the other side of the bay, no doubt prioritising patient care over store problems. Pike frowned, as Kirk turned back to him.

"McCoy seems to be running the place – where's Pruri?" Jim's face fell and Pike didn't need to hear the answer. He had enough years in Starfleet to know exactly what it meant. Jim told him anyway, as he had less years experience – none in fact.

"He was on Deck 6, Sir, it took a direct hit." Jim's voice had assumed the soft tone of regret that was the first thing Command track cadets learnt when they got on a ship, "Bones – that is McCoy – has taken over as CMO until we reach Earth."

"He's more then up to the job at least." Jim just smiled softly and nodded as he looked around at his best friend directing the flow of chaos that was Medical Bay. Pike allowed him a short silence before getting down to what he wanted to know, "Speaking of returning to Earth, Kirk, I have been informed of how long that it going to take us, and the reason for it. Presuming McCoy was correct, and I really hope he wasn't, we have lost our warp core – or more accurately it has been _dumped_."

Kirk had the good grace to look somewhat sheepish, though if there was one thing Pike had learnt about the younger man in the last three years it was that he simply didn't ever truly show remorse, regardless of the actions involved. Now he seemed to take a deep breath before addressing his mentor, "It was necessary, Sir, I assure you. I would never have harmed the ship if I'd have another choice. I take full responsibility for it, Sir, I gave the order."

Pike raised an eyebrow. Well, at least that explained the measure – it had Kirk written all over it after all, "So you gave the order, did you? And what of Spock? He approved this?"

Kirk got that same look that McCoy had been wearing just a few minutes prior and opened his mouth to speak when Chapel interrupted them. "Captain?" Both men turned to her with expectant looks on their faces, which turned to confusion from Pike after observing Kirk. Chapel smiled at him, "Sorry Sir, you're in no condition for any stress – I was referring to our Acting Captain." Here she turned to Kirk, holding out a comm devise, "It's Engineering, Sir, he says it's urgent."

Kirk nodded his thanks and took the comm, turning back to Pike, he simply said, "If you'll excuse me one moment, Sir, this can't wait." Then left a very confused and not very happy Pike as he took a few steps away to take the call. Pike stared after him, his ears hearing that Kirk was Acting Captain, but his mind not yet well enough recovered to process the information. Where was Spock? Surely the young Vulcan hadn't been injured? Pike hoped not, he had liked his First Officer, who was both efficient and fast-thinking. But there was no other explanation. He moved his head a little, looking around the Medical Bay, but couldn't see any sign of Spock in any of the beds, though there were plenty obscured by curtains or equipment. Pike sighed, it was pointless to wonder, he would simply have to ask Kirk for a _full_ update when he stopped dealing with Engineering. Speaking of which, Kirk was still close enough to hear the conversation, and Pike wasn't above a little eavesdropping. Jim was not talking right now, instead he was listening to the man on the end of the line explaining something.

"Aye, laddie," the voice at the other end was saying, "I'm doing my best down here, but the girl ain't got any more in her – I'm pushing her as it is. We cannae keep going with so many drains on power, I'll have to take it from somewhere." Pike was momentarily stunned by the strong Scottish brogue that was coming from the conn device. Who was that? The head of Engineering had been Olsen, who had space-jumped with Kirk. Whether or not the boy had come back – and Pike did hope that he had – there was still no one on the Engineering crew with an accent like that. Pike had already picked his Engineering crew when this whole mess had started, as they had been working on with the ship builders for some time. Only a few cadets had been added to the crew, and Pike knew none of them were Scottish as he had known all of Kirk's class. So who was this now? His head was starting to hurt with all the unanswered questions filling it up. Whoever it was, anyway, Kirk was now replying.

Kirk seemed to sigh a little as he held the comm up to his mouth, "Is there still power being sent to Deck 6?" An answer in the affirmative, "Redirect that to the main engines, there's no one left up there; and take the power from the shields as well – but I need to be able to get those back at a moment's notice, Scotty." He ran a hand through his hair and he looked even more tired and old then Pike had thought before, "And where else can we spare it? What about the officer's quarters – they're all up on Deck 9 aren't they? I don't see any officers sleeping any time soon, and the Vulcans are already set up in the multi-bed quarters on 3, so there's no need to keep those powered up, you can redirect that too."

"Aye, sure thing," There was a slightly uncomfortable pause as Pike wondered if this man was named Scotty or if that was just what Kirk was calling him, then he spoke again, sounding like he was trying to not be overheard, "And if the worst comes to the worst Captain?"

This time Kirk gave a heavy sigh, almost as though he was in pain – which he probably was – "If the worst comes to the worst, Scotty, I want gravity; life support; Medical and the Bridge kept going at all costs, and then we'll find a way home."

Scotty sounded sad as he replied, "Aye, Captain, I can promise you that, at least, she's a good lassie, this one."

Pike looked up in time to see a soft smile grace Kirk's face, a more sincere expression than Pike thought he had ever seen on the boy before, "She sure is, Scotty, she sure is." He then ended the conversation and dropped the comm onto the table as he made his way back to Pike's bedside.

By now Pike was at the end of his tether and levelled Kirk with his 'no nonsense' stare. It had never really worked on Kirk before, but it was the best he could do lying on his back in a hospital bed. "Alright Kirk – no more distractions. I want a _complete_ update on my ship. Who was that man you were talking to? And where is my head of engineering? What has so damaged this ship that you're even redirecting power from the quarters to keep her going. Why are you in charge anyway? And _what_ has happened to Spock?"

Kirk held up his hands in mock surrender, a shadow of his old grin coming back to his face. "Woah, sir, one at a time." He pulled up a seat as Pike continued to stare at him. "It makes a great story, sir, which I won't tell you now, one – because I don't have the time, and two – because Bones would kill me for stressing you out – it's a very dramatic tale."

"Isn't everything you're involved in, Kirk?"

Jim grinned properly this time, and it felt more like the talks they used to end up having when Kirk would be pulled up in Pike's office for one thing another, every other week in the academy. Except nothing was really like back then in the academy. _Back then_, Pike almost snorted – Kirk had been in his office just last week. It felt like a lifetime ago.

Now Kirk was levelling him with his own stare, "So, what would you like to know, sir? – and remember, one thing at a time, please."

Pike sighed, he was already tiring, his body not yet up to the challenge of a starship under Kirk's command. "Why are you Acting Captain when I made you First Officer? What is wrong with Spock, is he dead?" He asked the last with a heavy heart.

Kirk just shook his head, though, a slightly rueful smile on his face as he rubbed at the bruises on his neck, "He's most certainly not dead, Sir, I can assure you of that. As for the promotion, ah, well," Kirk wasn't looking him in the eye, and took refuge in formality "Given the events of today, or yesterday I suppose, Mr. Spock was unable to continue his command, so he has returned to his position of First Officer and I have taken over as Captain, in your absence sir."

Pike took a moment to realise what that meant, he then threw Kirk a disbelieving look - "You're telling me Spock – our _Vulcan_ First Officer – gave up command because he was emotionally compromised?"

Kirk still wasn't looking him in the eye, "Yes, sir, that's what happened."

"Kirk." Jim reluctantly looked up, "I will be getting the full story at some point, you know that right?" Jim just nodded. "Right, then tell me what happened to Olsen and who you were talking to on the comm."

Kirk shook his head at the mention of Olsen and Pike let his rest back on the pillow – so many good people lost, so many funerals to plan when they returned. But then Kirk's posture lightened a bit as his face gained a little animation, "I was speaking to Scott, sir, Montgomary Scott – he's our new head of Engineering. He's a genius sir, you'll like him."

"Scott?" So that was actually his name, "What was he doing on board, Kirk, I didn't have anyone called Scott on my crew."

This time Kirk's face took on the 'I'm not about to apologise for this because I'm glad I did it' look that Pike knew so well. "He and I beamed back on board, sir, and that was when I took command. Scott took over Engineering as I needed someone I could trust when Spock and I went onto the Romulan ship to get you, sir."

"Beamed _back_ on board?" Pike's head was starting to really ache now, and he could see McCoy returning out of the corner of his eye, "What were you doing off the ship? And how did you get back on board? Were you on Vulcan?" McCoy appeared and grabbed hold of Kirk's shoulder before he had a chance to bolt, "And what did happen to you, Kirk? You look like you went ten rounds with a Klingon." McCoy and Kirk exchanged a glance and the doctor muttered something about 'Green-blooded hobgoblins'. Pike's head gave another twinge and he held up his hand before Kirk could even attempt to explain. "You know what – never mind, I don't even want to know. I should have known you in charge of a starship would lead to utter madness that I could never understand. I'll leave you to it, Kirk, do whatever you want. McCoy," The doctor left Kirk to stand beside him, "My head is killing me, give me some of the good drugs and don't let me wake up until we get to Earth and everything goes back to normal." McCoy just smiled a little as he reached for a hypo. Then the world went blissfully black.


	5. The Crown Jewel is Chipped

**A/N: I'm back! I seem to be getting into writing again, and I'm squeezing the time in around work. So here's another story I had in the works, which just needed a few lines to finish it off. It's just a short piece that came into my head – sometimes I read something, or write something and it's makes another idea come into my head, it can get quite crowded and noisy in there sometimes, lol. This doesn't really have a plot or a point, it's just meant to be vaguely amusing, so tell me what you think!**

**Important! - lately I have been unable to reply to reviews, the link just won't work for me. But I appreciate every review I get and I'm so sorry I haven't been able to thank each of you individually. I really love hearing what you think, so keep it up!**

The _Enterprise_ – the flagship of the Federation, the crown jewel. Not only is the ship the newest model, equipped with only the first-class facilities and latest technology, it is also manned by the finest crew that Starfleet could offer – young genius', a hero captain, only the top of each field. Starfleet's best and brightest..._yeah right_ thought McCoy.

The doors to the MedBay slid open silently, indifferent to the agitated feelings of the three red shirted personnel who entered through the portal. Well, two of the men's feelings were agitated, the third was unconscious. He was being supported by his two colleagues, or more being _dragged_ between them as they struggled to support his weight. McCoy was over to them in less then a second.

"Put him on the bed!" As they pulled the man onto the bed McCoy pulled a tricorder over him, watching the readings that sprung to life on the screen. Third degree burns on one side of the upper torso and down the right arm, head wound, broken fingers- "What happened?" he demanded of the other two.

As he looked up to hear the answer the security personnel looked somewhat sheepish, "It was a phaser malfunction, Sir," one began, after throwing a glance at his companion, "Jack got caught in the blast." Still the sheepish look.

McCoy gave them the once over as he called Chapel to get a dermal regenerator, "And did you get caught in the blast too, Ensign? As you seem to have a burn on your arm." The Ensign looked down at his arm and pulled lightly at the fabric of his slightly torn tunic.

"Ah, yes, Sir, I guess I did get caught in it a little – we were more worried about Jack, Sir," Emphatic nodding from the other man.

McCoy sighed. He had a nasty feeling he knew exactly what had happened – and he blamed Jim entirely. Well, to be fair, he blamed Jim for most things that happened on this ship, and considered it Jim's responsibility as Captain to take whatever complaining McCoy doled out. But if the security personnel really had been having a training session with real phasers then it was Jim's fault for taking up training with Spock. Jim let other crew members watch if they wanted to, and many of the younger ones had taken to the idea of 'real-life' training – or in other words, training that universally landed you up on McCoy's table.

McCoy didn't bother calling them out on it, he would just talk to their superior and have him chew them over when they were all better. Then he would find Jim and do some chewing over of his own, directed at the _heroic_ Captain.

The door slid open and Scotty walked in under his own steam. Scotty was in the MedBay at least twice a week, though this time he looked like he had both blown himself up and electrocuted himself simultaneously. But at least he was entering walking unaided and even managed to get himself onto a bed with only minimal help from McCoy. Unfortunately, that was where the good news ended. Scotty appeared to be both very excited and in a good deal of pain. He waved his arms around, spoke too fast to be understood and kept grabbing the doctor's arm, whether as an entreaty for help or to gain a response McCoy didn't know. It took him twenty minutes and a hypo of tranquilliser to get the story out of the Engineer. Apparently Scotty had been on the brink of pushing the Enterprise to Warp 9 when the reserve engine had blown up in his face. This didn't seem to have bothered him too much though, and he had only came down to MedBay after three of his staff told him they would mutiny if he didn't get some sort of medical attention. ("I'm so close, doc, so close I can feel it – we're going to 9!" he had said once he had calmed down enough to be understood.) McCoy had just shaken his head and hypoed him into sedation so he could go about fixing the many minor injuries covering the man's body.

"Not again Jim!"

It was the middle of Gamma Shift and McCoy would have been asleep in his quarters if three Communications ensigns' hadn't lost a fight with some of the gym equipment and needed tending to. Now he was just about to leave as in came Jim, who visited at least twice a day, this time with his mouth slightly open and a harsh wheezing sound coming from somewhere deep in his lungs. He did make a fair attempt at explaining his problem, but McCoy was more than used to his friend's allergies and had jabbed him with a hypo and pulled him to a bed before Jim really knew what was happening.

It took only a few moments for the drugs to start taking affect and the wheezing reduced to a soft rattle. Jim stayed sitting up on the bed for a quiet minute, one hand clutching McCoy's arm, the other at his throat. The hand on his arm would be laughed off later but for now McCoy allowed it, knowing his friend took comfort in it. After that minute Jim looked up, smile firmly back in place, if a little pained, and his voice still a little scratchy.

"Thanks, Bones, you're a pal." Jim released his hold on him and McCoy took the opportunity to cross his arms, his 'giving-out-to-Jim' frown firmly in place.

"What was it this time, Jim?" he asked, glancing once at the over head monitors to ensure his friend's oxygen level was returning to normal, "You'd think by now you'd be able to avoid the things you're allergic to, especially as you can order whatever food you want from the replicators. What happened? You forget there's peanuts in peanut-butter again?"

Jim gave him a mock glare, "That was a one time thing, Bones, like a hundred years ago, stop going on about it."

McCoy grunted, "Yeah, if you consider three months 'a hundred years'."

The Captain chose to ignore him and instead opened a new conversation with the statement "It wasn't even my fault."

"Is it ever?" McCoy reached for a tricorder, already bored by whatever Jim's explanation would be, and began checking his friend's lungs for damage.

Jim just pouted, "This time it's really not though! It would have been rude to say no to one of the cookies that Janice baked. I didn't know there was coconut in them – they didn't taste of it."

McCoy stopped what he was doing, paying proper attention to his friend, "Janice Rand?" Jim nodded, looking a little pathetic in the hopes of sympathy, not that McCoy even noticed. "But I gave her a full list of your allergies when she took over as your yeoman, because she's always getting you food when you forget to eat. I told her to read it through and learn it!"

At this point Jim felt it was his duty as Captain to defend his yeoman, "Oh come on, Bones, nobody could memorise that list. Even I don't know it all. In fact, I think you're the only one who does." He laughed, but McCoy was having none of it.

"I gave her the list so she wouldn't have to memorise the whole thing," he growled, rubbing the bridge of his nose, "I swear there isn't a person on this ship that isn't either idiotic or incompetent, how we stay afloat I'll never know-"

"Now wait just a minute Bones," Jim jumped to his crew's defence, "This is the Enterprise – this ship is manned by Starfleet's best and brightest."

"Best and brightest, my ass," McCoy snorted, "If this ship is crewed by the best Starfleet has to offer then why do I see at least three people a week for phaser accidents; always one who's caught an STD; I practically have a _wing_ for Engineering, who seem incapable of doing their jobs without causing some kind of injury to themselves. And then of course there's you, the crowning jewel – I'm going to name a bed in here after you, and it'll be yours alone. It'll see plenty of use even if I do reserve it for you. This ship is a flying soup bowl of idiocy, immaturity and incompetence. I go to bed every night praying this isn't the best Starfleet have, because if it is then we're all doomed, the Klingons will have us in a second."

Jim stared at him for a second and then smiled, "Feel better now?"

McCoy sighed, pulling a hypo from his pocket, "Yeah, I do, now hold still."

Needless to say, Jim didn't.


	6. Memorials and Drinking

**A/N: Hey! I'm back, though after a bit of a gap. I'm getting back into Thunderbirds fanfics, which were some of the first I ever wrote, and that's distracting me from Star Trek. But here is another one I've just finished. This is, in a way, a character study of Jim and Bones, and in other ways it's just a little story...I don't know, just read it and tell me what you think!**

**And thanks again to everyone who reviewed, favourited, and read these stories, I wish I could thank you all individually! **

**Disclaimer: Not mine, no money, nothing...**

"Cadet Kirk!" Jim and McCoy both turned as the shout echoed down the steps of the main building. McCoy could have sworn he heard Jim curse softly under his breath and gave his friend a questioning look, which was ignored. Jim really looked like he was contemplating making a run for it, but the ensign, dressed in Academy red, caught up with them before he made up his mind.

"Cadet Kirk," the man said again, "You appear to have a problem with your PADD, as you have failed to respond to several messages sent to you."

Jim shrugged, his usual easy smile missing, "There's nothing wrong with my PADD."

The ensign's eyebrows dipped a little before he returned to indifference, "I have been commanded to find you and deliver the message in person. As I am sure you are aware, the anniversary of the Kelvin tragedy is in seven days time. A memorial is held on Academy grounds every year, so that the cadets and staff can express their solidarity with the victims and survivors. The head staff wish you to say a few words at the ceremony. As I said, we did not receive any response to our messages so-"

"No."

The ensign blinked, "Pardon me."

Jim's eyes narrowed in one of his rare moments of anger, "I said no. It would be impossible for me to say a few words as I will not be attending."

The ensign now looked positively shocked, "But Cadet Kirk-"

Jim cut him off, "Tell the chief staff that they can have their little get together to grieve for people they didn't even know, but not to expect me to take part in it."

McCoy was shocked too, but knew that as Jim's friend he shouldn't question his decision – yet. So he cut off the ensign's next attempt to protest, "You have you answer now, Ensign, return to your commander and deliver it." He gave the young man his best doctor glare and he actually turned and scurried off. Jim granted him a small smile.

"Thanks Bones, you're a pal."

McCoy levelled him with a look saved specially for Jim, "Don't think this is over, kid. I'll be back from my shift at nine and then I want to talk."

When he got back at nine it was to find the lights off and the room dark. Ordering the lights on revealed a sorry sight. Jim was lying on his bed, his back propped up by the pillows. A couple of empty bottles, ranging from beer to whiskey, lay on the floor and on the blankets beside him. A bottle of something unrecognisable was in his hand, and he was about to take a swig when the lights went up. The sudden glare elicited a loud groan and the bottle fell back against the covers.

"Glad to see you're well," Jim was well used to McCoy's sarcastic nature and just raised the bottle in a salute. McCoy sighed, throwing his bag onto his own bed. He joined it there and then stared over at his friend. "Are you really not going?"

Jim didn't ask what he was talking about, just shook his head the negative, taking a gulp of whatever the cherry coloured liquid was.

The Doctor tried again, "You could just say a few words, God knows you aren't shy."

"And what would you have me say Bones, hmm?" McCoy was a little taken aback by the ferocity of the sudden onslaught as Jim practically flew off the bed, standing in the centre of the room, hands held out, bottle abandoned "What would I have to say about a ship I was never on, or a man I never knew? A hero, that's what they all tell me. Well, someone else can make a speech about that hero, because all I ever knew was an empty place at the dinner table. A hole in my mother's heart that I couldn't fill no matter what I did." Jim seemed to deflate a little, flopping down on the side of the bed and putting his head in his hands, "Why did it have to be me, Bones? Why did it have to be my family?"

It was a question that, as a doctor, McCoy had heard a thousand and one times. There was no actual answer, only false sympathy, "It must have been hard-"

"Don't!" Jim roused himself, looking at Bones with more intensity then someone that drunk should be able to manage, "Don't say 'it must have been hard to grow up without a father', promise me you won't. Everyone always said that. 'It must be hard for you', 'you must find it difficult'. Growing up without a father was easy." Bones almost did a double take, thinking on how much loosing his father had hurt him. Jim continued, "You can't miss what you never had, Bones. I never found it difficult to grow up without a father. What was difficult was growing up without a mother. Mum was always off planet, or working one place or another. And when she was home she wouldn't look at me, not properly. She would look in my direction, but she was never looking at me. And every birthday that she was home she would smile that horrible fake smile and kiss me on the head and tell me she was so happy to have me. Then she'd go and lock herself in the bathroom for an hour and come out with red eyes. And to top off the best day of the year she would drag me to the Kelvin Memorial Service and we'd stand there and have all those strangers tell me how hard it must be. I swore I would never go to one of those things again. Why would I want to commemorate that? Everyone else has a a party, or a drink, or whatever they want for their birthday. I get to stand in front of people who don't know me and tell them all that I'm so proud of that complete stranger who happens to share DNA with me. I won't do it any more." He returned to the bed, sitting on the edge, but didn't reclaim the bottle. McCoy sat for a little bit, just thinking on what Jim had said.

He had always known Jim's childhood couldn't have been apple pie. Quite apart from the tragedy that everybody knew about, he remembered the kid he'd met on the shuttle all those months ago. The kid who, though only 21 years old, had been alone, un-uniformed, with blood on his shirt and the makings of a broken nose. He remembered how Jim had taken his hip flask with a long time drinker's grace, not flinching at all at the neat whiskey inside. He had seen how Jim, though sociable and charismatic on the outside, was fiercely independent underneath the surface. He never saw Jim depend on anyone for anything, and had a hard time just getting the kid to trust him to take care of the occasional thing. He also found out in the first few weeks that Jim was a genius – and not an 'oh wow, you're an absolute genius for figuring that out' kind of genius. No, a genuine, certified genius. Which gave no explanation for why he had been recruited out of a bar, and not one of the colleges that all the other cadets came from, with their courses in linguistics and advanced computers. Yes, he had concluded early on that Jim's childhood must have sucked majorly, and involved a whole lot of fending for himself. But the Doctor had never really thought of the implications of that, happy to take the funny, easy going Jim, who went out to bars with him, and always ended up going home with the prettiest girl in the joint. He had never really thought what it must have been like to mark every birthday with another year of pain for the lives lost. To get false sympathy from people you didn't know about a man you could never know. A hero was one hell of a shadow to live in, but Jim didn't even know that shadow, had never even been held by his father, let alone have actual memories of him. That left a special kind of emptiness, and made McCoy look at his friend in a different light.

McCoy wondered what it was like to live in a shadow like that, he wondered how much it hurt. He knew Jim was good at masking pain, but maybe he was even better than the doc knew, maybe he was blindingly good at it, terrifyingly good at it, maybe it was all the kid knew. That mask that Bones had seen past perhaps three times in eleven months. Jim wore it like armour – but then again, maybe he needed the protection.

After a few minutes of silence, while McCoy thought all this out, he got to his feet and sat down beside Jim. He knew his friend enough to know that a heart to heart and some crying on shoulders wasn't how he dealt with things like this. Instead, he pushed a little against the younger man's arm with his shoulder, "So where are we going to celebrate your birthday? What horrible dive have you picked out?"

Jim looked at him as though he was seeing him for the first time, his voice was a little rough when he spoke, "What? What do you mean?"

McCoy rolled his eyes in an exaggerated way, "Well, obviously we'll be drinking somewhere, unless you're planning on hanging around in here and watching a movie or something. But if you say that then we're going straight down to medical, cus it'll be a sure sign the drink's finally gotten to you."

For all his feigned indifference though, Bones knew Jim cared more then he wanted to show about his family. The fact that the usually very easy going guy would beat into submission anyone who even mentioned the Kelvin incident in a bad light was evidence enough of that. He let him away with it though, just like Jim didn't talk about Bones' wife or child, and they didn't talk about their drinking problem, or the desperation that had put them both in Starfleet in the first place. A lot of their friendship was built on the sullen silences that filled the gap between them on nights spent in the dark corners of bars.

Three years later McCoy stood, stiff backed as the Admiral droned on. There was a sea of people, thousands strong, in front of him. They were lined up, some in uniform, some not. Some cried noisily, some were just standing in stoic silence, or schooled military indifference. McCoy was at the very back, just by the door. He and Jim had slipped in late, silent and unseen, after Jim announced that he wanted to go, and that he wanted McCoy to come with him. It would be the first time in a long time that they were not drunk by eleven o'clock on the Kevlin Memorial Day.

Though this wasn't just the old memorial service that they used to skip every year. Now there were two statues, great pillars, one on either side of the talking Admiral. The names that seemed to be carved into them changed as the holograph went through lists too long for one single piece of stone. One pillar was old, well kept but a little softer around the edges, where people had come to lay a hand on it. The other was new and stark, less then three weeks old, and with even more names on it then the first. On it were carved the names of almost every person McCoy had come to know in his time in the Academy. There were only those of the Enterprise left, all standing together in one corner, he noted, probably alternatively thanking and cursing their luck. It was for that pillar that people in the crowd cried.

All except one.

Though to be honest McCoy wasn't sure what Jim was crying for. His father, his classmates, the things he had seen? The had all been through so much, lost so much. And none more then the newly commissioned Captain standing next to McCoy. Maybe Jim was just crying for everything, for all the things that had gone wrong in his life, all the things he had lost, and had never cried about, never mourned. Maybe he was finally finding some sort of peace and direction in his life. It didn't matter anyway, not to McCoy. He just stayed standing beside Jim, pretending he didn't see the tears streaming down his friend's face. Because that was what Jim had always wanted from McCoy – someone who didn't try to comfort him.


	7. Survival

**A/N: Ah...so...hey guys – yeah, I'm still alive, shocking though that probably is to most of you. It's been a bit hectic to say the least – moving back home from London, starting college a week later...but you guys don't care about that. I'm trying to write, really trying, but it's getting more difficult. But enough about me – this is a very short little piece that popped into my head, I'm not madly keen on it, but I wanted to post something, and it has some highlights, so I hope you guys like it. **

It all started with that car and that cliff. That's what he told Bones when the doctor asked him how he always came back alive – battered – but alive.

Bones, who was the only person in the universe who knew all of Jim Kirk's life, knew all the stories – the true ones – not the bullshit ones he peddled to the press and his merry band of admirers. Bones knew everything, told in a disjointed collection of drunken nights and sullen birthdays and days where Jim just couldn't keep that goofy smile in place.

It started with the car. He had really only meant to take it for a ride, he hadn't been planning on heading to the quarry. It was only when the traffic cop came after him and the quarry was the next turn that his quick fire mind turned the wheel almost without him thinking it. And then he was speeding towards the edge, foot hard of the accelerator. And for a moment he did think '_why not?'._ Who was going to miss him? His good-for-nothing step-dad? His absentee mother? His brother who had just become the latest person in his life to abandon him? He had no-one so why not just keep going? But then some part of his mind woke up, a part he didn't know was there and it was yelling, loud and clear – _No! You will survive, you have to survive, have to live, have to get back, have to win..._And his foot was on the break, but too slow, and then he was out of the car, flying for just a second, and it felt amazing. He had never felt so good in his eleven short years then in that moment when he soared out of the old Chevy, almost not making it, just catching the edge of the cliff with his fingers, holding on. He had pulled himself out, no help required. And even though he knew the trouble he was about to in, and knew that this was one thing he was not going to be able to talk his way out of, still he was grinning, because he had lived, he had survived, he had won.

Tarsus came after that, and Jim didn't have any distinct memories of deciding to survive that. It would have been easier to have lay down and died, or given himself up to the soldiers that were roaming the countryside. It would have been quick enough, and he would have had to live with the pain, the hunger, the long lingering memories. But there were the little faces of the children he had gathered around him, too innocent to think of death as an easier option; and there was that voice inside his head, a constant chant – _You will survive this, you're stronger then them, you will survive this..._ It was never that he wanted to survive it, he _needed_ to survive it. That voice had become an important part of him, it anchored him when he was so hungry he could barely move his arms, when he was being chased by soldiers and it was just so hard to run. As Jim Kirk wasted away, the voice became most of what he was, so of course he listened to it.

After that it just became his nature – life threw him a punch and he rolled with it. He still didn't make a conscious decision to live through the stupid stunts, the bar fights, the drinking. He just _did_.

It started with that car and that cliff. That's what he told Bones. But it wasn't what Jim really believed. It started before that, he knew. It started the day a premature and sickly baby cried its way into a world of fire and pain and death. He shouldn't have lived through that day, so many people didn't. But he did, he survived that, and that was the day the voice was born, the day he realised that he wanted to win, and to win he had to live.

**A/N: Got any thoughts? Got any suggestions? Everything is welcome! :-) **


	8. Doctor Bones

**A/N: I know – it's been a thousand years! I'm sorry! College is actually kicking my ass right now and the work I did over the summer left me very tired, so it was all I could manage to just keep up. But I'm back at it, I swear. I have this story to post and another as well, and I will write more! I've also started writing Batman fics, but I'm not sure I'm at the posting stage yet with those.**

**This is just a little fic I started ages ago, set during the Academy days – hopefully you guys find it funny, cus I kind of did, lol. **

McCoy sighed as his little group reached the next door. He really didn't want to do this, but he had no justification for skipping one patient on his rounds, even if said patient was his best friend and a massive pain in the ass. This was a teaching hospital and he had no choice but to teach. So he gritted his teeth and pushed open the door, not even looking at the bed as he called on one of the interns with him to report on the patient.

"Simmons, what have we got?"

Simmons spoke slightly too fast, as he had yet to quite get over the fear instilled in him the first time they had done rounds and McCoy had yelled at him for being incompetent. "Twenty-two year old male, human, presented with two broken ribs, dislocated left index finger, distal radius fracture of the right hand, mild concussion, as well as contusions and lacerations over much of the body. Was admitted for treatment last night and has had bone regeneration on the breaks and fracture, as well as having the dislocation set and the contusions and lacerations healed." The young man didn't look up at McCoy, preferring to study the clipboard in front of him as though it held the secrets of the world.

McCoy was just about to answer when the inevitable interruption came from the man lying on the bio-bed. "Well it sounds like I'm pretty much all better, so I can go now, right?"

He went so far as to actually start pulling off the bedclothes, forcing McCoy to put a restraining hand on them. "No, _Cadet_, you cannot go now, as you well know. You're staying until I do your neuro exam and decide that that concussion is taken care of."

Jim pouted a bit and McCoy thought he heard one of the female interns stifle a giggle – _Good Lord_. "Well then _Doctor_," Jim's sarcasm always lacked malice and so never stood up to McCoy's, "Are you going to do the exam now? I've been here for hours and I have better things to do."

Against his better judgement McCoy responded – there was something about Jim that always made him argue, even when he'd promised himself that he would treat him just the same as every other patient in front of the interns, "Well sorry, _your highness_, didn't realise I was keeping you from some state function. If you're so busy I suggest you stop getting into bar fights. And in answer to your question, no, I'm not going to do the exam now, I'll be back after rounds and then you'll be able to leave – if I say you can."

Jim stuck his tongue out at him – actually _stuck his tongue out_, like a five year old. McCoy rolled his eyes, but then turned sharply as he heard a laugh from behind him. "Devon!" The unfortunate intern's smile slid off his face as he practically snapped to attention. "What pain medication would you suggest for Cadet Kirk here?"

"Ah," Devon fought to regain his composure, "Tyoxidol, sir – 20 milligrams – with a further 5 milligrams every four hours."

McCoy's face sunk into an even deeper frown then usual. All the interns shrank back a little. Jim, meanwhile, had gotten bored and was busy fiddling with his friend's tricorder. The doctor faced the little group, a serious expression on his face. "Do you all agree with the medication Devon just prescribed?"

There was a long, uncomfortable pause broken by the soft click of the battery being slipped out of the tricorder, which McCoy didn't hear. Eventually, when it became apparent that no one had any better ideas, several heads bobbed up and down. McCoy's frown, if possible, became deeper. "The prescription that Mr. Devon just gave is textbook – it is exactly what you are supposed to give a patient in Cadet Kirk's condition. And if I were to allow you to administer that prescription to the Cadet right now he would be dead before I ever got to do that neuro exam." That caught Jim's attention but McCoy continued to stare at the group of stunned interns. He very deliberately picked up Jim's chart, displayed on a PADD and scrolled half way down the impressively long document. He then turned it around and showed a list (also impressively long) to the group. "This is a list of Cadet Kirk's allergies." He put a finger on one word in particular – Tyoxidol. "As I said – he would be dead before lunch." Jim had lost interest when it became apparent that it was just another of those wonderful allergies that McCoy worried so much more about than he did. He casually looked up.

"Tyoxidol?" he asked, "That'd be the one that..."

"The one that makes you choke on your own breath," sighed McCoy as he turned around, only to spot what his friend was at. "Hey, what the hell – give me that, Jim!" He snatched the tricorder back, then noticed the battery pack missing and held out his hand for that as well. "Kleptomania much? Did you take that from my pocket?"

Jim shrugged, "Easy target."

McCoy just muttered 'Child', as he turned back to his class, acting as though there had been no interruption. "Textbooks are useless when it comes to treating patients because every patient is different. If you remember that then you may only kill a few of the people you see, instead of most of them."

"Geez, Bones, harsh." McCoy's eye twitched a little as exactly what he hoped wouldn't happen happened. He could hear the mutters of '_Bones_?' already from the group of interns. He clenched his teeth.

"As I was saying," he continued, pointedly ignoring his friend, and the titters, "Textbooks aren't going to be of much use to you from now on, you might as well get that into your heads now. This is the real world, not some dusty classroom."

"Isn't that opinion what got you in trouble with our History of Starfleet tutor in first semester?" Jim seemed to have given up trying to find something else to amuse himself with and decided to participate instead.

McCoy was now trying really hard to keep his cool – Jim was good at raising his blood pressure in any situation, but this one could very quickly descend into a farce. He turned to Jim, looking down on the kid, "At least I had a reason for him kicking me out – you just pissed him off so much he couldn't stand to have you in the room. The one time I actually agreed with the old codger."

Jim pouted again, "You don't mean that, Bones. Who needs that class anyway, it was a waste of our time – we got way more done by ourselves."

McCoy, getting pulled into the conversation, thought for a moment, "... Jim – we went drinking during his classes, they were on Friday evenings."

"Exactly," Jim grinned, "A much better use of our time."

As McCoy stared at the grinning face of his friend he seemed to remember where he was – or more importantly _what_ he was meant to be doing. He turned swiftly towards his interns, many of whom almost snapped to attention in surprise.

"Well?" he demanded, "Are you going to stand there all day? I was under the impression we had work to do!" He flicked the PADD at them, gesturing towards the door which they small group started to file out of. They didn't leave so fast, though, that they missed Jim's final word.

"You are a bit hard on them, Bones – you could lighten up a little."

McCoy snorted, "You don't know what you're talking about Jim. And neither do they – which is exactly why I'm so hard on them. They haven't got out of the 'Oh look, I'm going to be a Starfleet doctor and travel the galaxy and save millions of people' phase yet."

There was a pause. "Now I see why Pike didn't want you at that recruitment day."

**A/N: Just a one-shot so a slightly abrupt ending. The next one, which I'll put up in a day or two, is a stream of consciousness one – so it's a bit weird – but it's basically Jim getting rescued by his crew, though you only really see him and Bones in it. **

**Review, if there's anyone out there still reading this.**


	9. Blink And You'll Miss It

**A/N: So...when I get writer's block I write stream of consciousness stories to loosen myself up. Usually these stories all end up dumped in a file that if any one ever read they would have me committed. But this one stars Jim, and makes some sort of sense, so it gets to be part of The Drabbles...don't judge me! lol**

Everything is red, red and fuzzy. No, not everything, that's just his hand. His hand is red. How interesting. It didn't used to be, it was skin coloured once, but who knows how long ago that was. It might be cold here, or maybe it's warm and he's lost the knack for telling the difference. Somehow he thinks that both might be true – it might be cold and he can't tell anyway. He doesn't know why he thinks that.

He can hear dripping.

His nose feels strange; so does his leg; and his chest. His head doesn't feel at all – it might not be there any more. That would have made him laugh once, but he doesn't feel like it right now. Maybe that's because he can't feel his head – or maybe it's his chest.

He's lying down, on his back with his face to one side and his arm stretched out.

There's more red around his hand now, though it looks like it's coming towards his hand, from him. It's bright; and wet; and red.

He can still hear dripping. And a bang as well. It sounds far off, like it's coming from behind a stone wall. And there does seem to be a stone wall across from him. It hurts to look that far away though, so he goes back to his hand. It's getting redder, his sleeve is soaking it up. He can't feel the wetness though.

Bang bang bang. Is someone shouting? Are there other people in the world? Is he on a world? Is he dead? Foolish thought.

He blinks but it takes so long for his eyes to open again he thinks he may have fallen asleep. He can feel vibrations under him. A gust of air swirls around him. It isn't hot or cold. It comes with a shout and more thumping – boots? He only thinks that's what it might be because that's what's just appeared beside his hand. The boots are attached to legs and knees that hit the ground beside him. Another hand – not red; not his – lands on his chest. He idly turns his head to look down at it. It's pushing down but it doesn't hurt. Shouldn't it hurt? Another hand has joined it – they're both turning red, just like his. He does laugh at that – it's not even funny. And the laugh comes out as a wild sort of gurgling giggle. Something pops into his field of vision. It's a face, and it's attached to the hands by long, muscled arms in blue cloth.

_Bones._

He blinks and again it takes an age to open his eyes. The face is there still, the mouth moving. The words (that's what the face would be saying, right, words?) don't seem to be making it all the way to his brain, they're stopping at his ears. Just noise. The face is frowning, talking to him.

_Bones._

He thinks there might be other people around. Who really cares anyway. His body moves – he isn't telling it too, he can feel pushes and pulls directing his body to the left, onto something both hard and soft. '_Stretcher'_ floats around inside his brain, he doesn't pay too much attention. Other things are happening. Something is dribbling out of his mouth – interesting. There's movement, lots of it and far too fast for him. But he can tell he's been shoved onto his side. The words are still garbled but one or two are getting through.

_Jim! Jim!...fine...swear...stay...me...Jim!_

He blinks again – is it still blinking if your eyes don't open again? The black is soft – can a colour be soft? Who cares. It's soft, and it's not red, and it isn't garbled and confusing.

He doesn't blink again.

STSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTST

He's lying on something both hard and soft. Medical Bay bed – he's been in enough of them to know. His chest feels numb, so does his leg. His head hurts, but it's bearable. He's warm but he knows he needs to open his eyes.

He blinks – reverse blinks as his eyes open and then close again. A warm pressure appears on his arm.

"Jim"

_Bones_.

Bones.

"Bones?"

"Right here, idiot, you gonna open your eyes?" The words don't have any menace in them.

The hand moves from his arm to his shoulder, squeezes slightly, then disappears.

He opens his eyes, blinks and opens them again. Bones' face is hovering over him, the white walls of the Medical Bay are around him, the bed, both hard and soft, ia beneath him. He is where he is meant to be...

**A/N: And thanks to everyone out there who is reviewing, faving or just reading – it's an awesome feeling knowing your work is being enjoyed my people! **


	10. I'll Just Be You

**A/N: 'It's a god-damn miracle, Jim, she actually updated.' **

**Haha, so hey guys, how have you been? Anyone die of old age waiting for this? I hope not. I'm in my final year of University now (oh god, life is coming, what am I meant to do?!) It's been a whole lot of work hence the total lack of any writing (well, okay, I have written some Batman stuff – shhh, Bruce Wayne seduced me, I couldn't help it). But I'm trying to fit Star Trek stuff in whenever I can and I'm desperately excited for the new movie, which JJ appears to have created solely to make us cry. **

**So here's a random story that came to me when I was watching the movie for what must easily be the 20th time and I was thinking about how Pike just presumed Jim, Sulu and Olson knew how to space jump, even though they were all different specialities. And when I said it to my sis she said that it was probably standard training for anyone serving on a ship and my automatic response was that there was no way Bones would have done that...and then this happened...**

Jim woke to the sound of retching coming from the small bathroom attached to his two person dorm room. Normally it was Jim with his head in the toilet after one too many drinking competitions, McCoy was much more sensible than that (or so he liked people to think, Jim knew where he kept his stash of hangover cures). Still, in the two years that they had roomed together, Jim honestly couldn't remember one time McCoy had actually been sick so he was pretty quick to roll out of his own bed and over to the bathroom door, which had been left ajar. McCoy was a sorry sight, leaning against the toilet seat, his eyes closed and his face flushed an unhealthy shade of green. The smell of vomit was strong in the air, keeping Jim by the door.

"You okay, Bones? Do you need me to get your medkit for you?" McCoy kept a well stocked kit in the dorm room for dealing with Jim's late night mishaps.

The doctor's eyes snapped open and he gave Jim a much sharper look then anyone with their head in a toilet should be able to. He pursed his lips for a moment, taking deep breathes through his nose, before he spoke. "No, I don't." He shook his head a little, looking annoyed, "I don't have anything in there for anxiety – trust me, I've tried everything." After this short speech he went back to retching and Jim braved the room to fetch a glass of water for his friend. It was taken without comment, half of it ending up spat back out.

"Anxiety? What's eating you?"

McCoy didn't try to speak again, instead gesturing outside to his bed. A PADD was lying on it, an open message on the screen. Jim picked it up, scanning the contents before sighing in understanding. "You knew it was coming, Bones. I know it freaks you out but everyone has to do it."

McCoy had by now made his way out of the bathroom, choosing to collapse onto Jim's bed, staying as far away as possible from the PADD in Jim's hand, as if it was somehow responsible for the message it bore. "I don't care if all of Sector 10 is up there with me Jim – I am not jumping into space!" His hands moved in the air from his prone position. "What kind of a crazy person thought that up anyway? Jumping out of a plane is nutty enough, but into _space_? Who does that?! There's no air!" One hand moved to rest over his eyes and Jim, who was used to the sarcastic and defiant McCoy, didn't think he'd ever seen his friend looked so defeated. A plan instantly presented itself and Jim grinned widely.

"Don't worry about it, Bones." Jim made his way over to his bed, tossing the PADD down again and clapping McCoy on the shoulder as his friend sat up. "I'll take care of it."

A sceptical look was levelled at him. "What do you mean '_you'll take care of it_'? In with the exam board now are you?"

Jim grinned, moving over to pull his uniform out of the closet. "You know they hate me, Bones, I mess with the stats. No, I mean I'll take care of it – you can just sit tight here and think of nice solid, Georgia fields."

McCoy stood, hands on hips, his nausea forgotten in the face of Jim with his 'no, really, this is a great idea, I swear it won't get me killed' look (as McCoy liked to think of it). "I will not – tell me what you're thinking or I'm going to sedate you so you can't leave."

Jim pretended to look hurt. "Bones, I'm doing something for you – show a little gratitude. And don't look at me like that, this really is a fool-proof plan."

"Says the fool. No, tell me what you're going to do, or it isn't happening."

Jim shrugged, side-stepping McCoy to get to the drawers that held his uniforms. "I'll just do the jump for you, of course."

McCoy just looked at him like he was an idiot. "You'll just do the jump for me? And you don't think anyone will be suspicious as to why I've suddenly gone blond and lost about five years of my life? You've done your jump already, you can't just sign in under a different name."

Jim's grin got wider. "You're forgetting, Bones. The jump is contracted out to a civilian organisation. No one will know me. I'll take your ID – I guarantee you they won't be checking photos – and you know the groups are mixed up among all the cadet courses. Everyone there will just presume I'm doing my jump and no-one will be any the wiser when it goes down under your name." He had his cadet reds on by the time McCoy had digested all of that. He apparently couldn't find a flaw in the plan because he ended up just frowning some more and muttering about it being 'too easy'. "The best plans are the simplest, Bones." Jim punched him in the shoulder and held out his hand, "Now, give me your ID and don't leave the room until I come back."

The best plans are the simplest and the plan went perfectly...Okay, so Jim may have over shot his landing a little and ended up coming down on one ankle kind of badly. But he couldn't have Bones performing too well could he? That's what he told the doctor anyway, while the man fussed over him in their dorm room. Jim could tell McCoy was grateful though. He never said it, of course, but there was a very good bottle of Bourbon waiting for him to share when he got back and that said it all.

One Week Later...

"Cadet Kirk." Jim, who had entered the office on announcement, straightened to a smart salute which Pike returned without rising from his seat. He then gestured for Jim to stand at ease, which Jim did his best to do without leaning too much weight on his left ankle, but also without looking like he was tilting to one side. There was a pause as Pike continued to stare at the PADD in front of him and Jim tried to not fidget. After almost a minute he had to speak.

"You called me here, sir?" Jim honestly didn't know why he had been called. Usually he could trace a call back to something he had done in the last while – given cheek to an instructor, taken a shuttle for a joyride, been out past curfew. But he hadn't done any of those things recently, he'd been getting ready for final exams and resting up after the space jump. Unless he was here because Pike had gotten wind of what he'd done?...

Pike looked up as he spoke, his face showing that odd expression that Jim liked to think meant he was trying to hide amusement under sternness (he didn't really have any proof that this was the case though). The Captain glanced once more at the PADD before arching his fingers in front of him. "I just received the space jump exercise reports," he said, not really answering Jim's unasked question, but confirming the younger man's suspicions. "I must say I was quite surprised." Another pause as Jim schooled his features into neutral curiosity and Pike leaned back in his chair, one hand dangling on the arm. "I was surprised, Kirk," he continued, eyeing Jim shrewdly, "To see your good friend Doctor McCoy's name on the list of completed jumps."

"It's required training for all cadets, sir, medical included."

Pike huffed a little with laughter, "I'm aware of that, Kirk. What surprised me is that he is listed as having done the jump without complaint, though he did hurt himself on the landing – did you know that?" Jim felt it best to just nod silently. Pike nodded as well. "Yes, he landed badly on his ankle, apparently." He leaned forward again, pinning Jim down with his best 'I'm in charge dammit' look (as Jim called it). "But here's the thing, Kirk. I saw McCoy yesterday and he was looking perfectly fine – he was running around Medical at the time in fact. You, on the other hand, are not looking quite so well." He waved towards the chair in front of his desk. "Do you want to take the weight off that leg? You can sit if you need to."

Jim just shook his head, attempting to stand a little taller. "I'm fine sir, thank you."

Pike gave him a once over before returning to 'the look'. "Hmm. And even ignoring that little coincidence, Cadet, you and I both know that Leonard McCoy would no sooner jump out of a shuttle without complaint then you would do a semester without a bar fight."

"Stranger things have happened, sir."

Pike's eyebrows rose. "Really Cadet? Because I'm a well travelled man and I can't think of any. So tell me, did McCoy have a sudden change of heart, sometime after he almost crashed my in-tray with all his _requests_ to be excused from the exercise?"

"Surely that's something you should be asking Doctor McCoy about, sir."

"Do you _want _ me to interrogate the doctor about it, Kirk?"

Jim sighed, Pike knew him too well to be deflected with stupid arguments. "No, sir."

Pike just gave him a long look, before sitting back a little, running his hand through his hair. "I didn't think so." He paused for a moment, thinking on how to continue. "Loyalty is a very highly valued trait in Starfleet, Kirk, you know that?" Jim nodded slightly, wondering what Pike was getting at. "But so is realism. I am more than aware of McCoy's distaste for heights, however; he will soon be a Starfleet doctor and given his skill he will almost certainly be working on a Starship. There may come a time when he has no choice but to space jump. He cannot do that with no training – and he has no training thanks to you, Kirk." Jim tried to butt in but Pike held up a hand for silence. "Like I said, Kirk, loyalty is a fine quality, but you are a command track cadet – you are expected to put the good of your crew above the whims of your friends. As a future officer the training of all future crew members should be your concern. You do not have the luxury of disrupting that training because your friend gets a little air sickness, do you understand that?"

Jim straightened a little but still stared Pike in the eye, "I understand, sir, I do. But respectfully," Pike resisted the urge to sigh because that was how all of Jim's worst arguments with him started, "It wouldn't matter if the whole ship was falling out of orbit, sir, Bones still wouldn't jump, training or no training; so there really wasn't any point in sending him on the exercise."

Pike made a noise of disbelief, "Are you seriously telling me, Kirk, that McCoy would rather go down with his ship than make a jump?"

Jim thought for a moment and then smiled, "I think if it were to happen sir, I would end up strapping him to my suit and doing a tandem jump, it would be the only way he'd go, and he still wouldn't need to the training. Though I would have to knock him out, more than likely..." Jim's voice had gotten softer as he started pondering to himself. Pike left him to it. Jim often referred to his planned future where he was a Captain and McCoy his CMO. It wasn't that Pike didn't think this would happen – both men were extremely talented and would likely hold those positions some day. What Kirk's dreams seemed to lack were the reality of the years it was going to take to earn those titles. Years where they would both serve where they were told and where anything could happen. Kirk had come back to himself while Pike thought this and had started talking again.

"I did try, sir, with the training. I tried talking him into it, reassuring him. I showed him vids and made him come and watch me do my jump. I even took him up in a shuttle to try and make him do an in-atmosphere jump but he wouldn't get out of his seat. Even when I told him one of the engines had gone on fire, he still just sat there – that's how I know he'd gladly go down with a ship, sir." That got Pike's attention.

"You took Doctor McCoy up in a shuttle, gave him a parachute and told him one of the engines was on fire?" Pike didn't even try to hide the disbelief in his voice.

Kirk looked a little sheepish, "It was outside of class hours sir."

Pike gave him a shrewd look, "Yes, but was the shuttle outside of Academy control, Kirk?" Silence was the only answer he needed for that question.

Pike's 'Pile of Kirk Related Paperwork' sense was tingling. He was willing to give in on this, really though. A lot of people would be very surprised with how often he actually just gave in with Jim, but Kirk was one of those Cadets you had to pick your battles with. Pike knew what Kirk had done had come from a good place, and it did sound like he'd tried everything else with McCoy. In the end they couldn't force McCoy to jump out of a shuttle and he was too good of a doctor to have him grounded on that alone. It wasn't worth filing a complaint, getting both cadets in trouble and having black marks in their files. He would let it slide.

"Just go, Cadet." He made a waving gesture with his hand and saw Jim smile just a little as he saluted smartly and strode from the office, still limping slightly. He knew that when Pike said that he meant 'I'm not going to do anything about it this time but I better not hear about this again' – it wasn't the first time something like this had happened after all.


	11. Uncle Chris and Bubbles the Goldfish

**Important!** – So in the original script for the first ST movie when Kirk goes to meet the shuttle Pike asks him how he got into the secure station and Kirk tells him he told the guys on the desk that he was Pike's nephew and that he'd come to say goodbye. (The scene is in the novelization of the movie, which has a lot of the removed scenes from the movie.) So I was thinking about that scene and my sis and I started laughing over the idea that when Pike went back to see the progress on the Enterprise someone would ask him about his nephew. And then I started thinking what kind of story Jim would have spun and yeah, then this happened.

**Slight spoilers for Into Darkness!**

Chris was staring up at what was starting to look like his new ship. The hull had its external sheeting in place and the chief engineer was just finishing telling him about the newest additions when the question came. The engineer smiled at him as they moved away from the fence, "How's your nephew doing, sir? Are you visiting him while you're here?"

Chris did a double take. "My nephew?"

The engineer nodded, oblivious to Chris' confusion. "I was on the gate when he came to say goodbye to you the last time. Nice kid, he was. Jim, was that it?" Everything suddenly became very clear to Chris as he remembered Kirk's joke about how he'd gotten into the station when he joined the 'fleet. But the engineer was looking expectantly at him and what would be the advantage of explaining that in fact that had been a lying little juvenile delinquent that Chris had talked into donning the uniform? Yeah – probably best to just play along.

"Ah, yes, it was Jim. My nephew. He's doing just fine. No, I didn't get a chance to see him this time round."

The engineer's smile widened a little. "So you didn't get a chance to see Bubbles either then, sir? Jim told us he was minding the goldfish for you, said you were really attached to it – I mean _him_ – sir." The grin was threatening to get even bigger and it took all Chris' years of Starfleet training to not react.

When he got back to the Academy though...

STSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTST

"_Bubbles_, Kirk? _Really_?"

He had caught Jim coming out of a Tactics class and got the pleasure of watching the boy do a double take when he heard his name. Jim looked confused for a second but then it came to him and a wide grin spread across his face. He shrugged one shoulder as he sidled over to Pike.

"What can I say, sir – I was making it up as I went along."

"And you were drunk and concussed, yes I remember. I'd still expect something a little more original, though, Kirk, you've disappointed me."

Jim looked mock thoughtful. "Well the other option was Captain Goldi Fishington, but you know what they say about lying – the simpler the better."

Pike just shook his head. "Sometimes I really wonder if I made the right choice in that bar, Kirk. _Bubbles_ is just another nail in the coffin." He got a wider grin in response and a wave as Jim jogged off in the direction of the canteen.

STSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTST

No one in the Academy knew Pike's birthday. It was in his file, of course, but that was classified thanks to some of his rookie years' missions. And Chris just wasn't the kind of person to get together with his friends for drinks and bad singing. In fact he wasn't the kind of person who had friends like that at all. No, he liked to keep his birthdays – like most things in his life – private. Maybe buy himself a nice bottle of bourbon if he wasn't working.

When he walked into his office on the morning of his birthday there was a white plastic box on his desk. There wasn't a note or a card, but the red bow and the glitter and the very fact that it was there at all left Chris in little doubt of who was responsible. And even that little bit of doubt was gone when he finally opened the box (having first spent a few minutes staring at it and wondering if he really wanted to know how Kirk had gotten into his classified personnel file). Inside the box was a clear glass globe, about a foot in diameter, and inside that was a single shiny-orange goldfish. The fish stopped swimming around the castle and plant-life it had for company and stared at Chris when he held the glass up to his face. At the base of the globe was a tiny bronze plaque with _Bubbles_ written in curvy type, and under that the message '_To Uncle Chris. Happy Birthday_'.

There was a time when Chris was a hard-ass Captain, leading crews through battles and deep space exploration. Chris remembered that time. Hell, even now he could still make cadets quake in their boots when they were pulled into his office. He was an officer, a Captain. What was it about Jim Kirk? Because all Chris could do was smile and shake his head.

The goldfish got a place on his desk and no one was ever given a proper explanation if where it came from. Kirk would bring it presents though, whenever he was in Pike's office, which was far too often.

STSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTST

Not that many people were ever invited into the Captain's office aboard the Enterprise. Kirk preferred to work from the Bridge, using the ready room if he needed privacy. Occasionally though an Admiral or a Diplomat or some other important visitor would find themselves on one side of the silver desk.

They always asked about the goldfish.

He lived in a fully enclosed, glass tank set into the wall behind Kirk's chair. Even if (when) the ship turned upside down, the fish kept swimming. A little castle and a wavy green plant kept him company. Kirk only ever smiled when the inevitable question arose, and told them the fish was the ship's mascot.

There was a tiny bronze plaque above the tank, but no one ever got close enough to read it.

**A/N: Oh I know, it's short and silly and about seven months over due. I'm working on it, I swear. Hope you guys like this in the meantime :-)**


	12. A Good Friend Will Bail You Out Of Jail

**A/N: I have no explanation for this one, it just happened. But I'm actually quite fond of it.**

A Good Friend Will Bail You Out, A Best Friend Will Be In The Cell Next To You...

It started out in the smallest way. Jim wanted to go drinking – off campus, past curfew. Jim assured him it was fine, assured him he was able to rig the security system to make it think they were still in the building. And, fool that he was, McCoy had agreed. Well, in fairness to Jim he had successfully rigged the security and gotten them off campus without being seen. But McCoy wasn't in the fairest mood as their cell door was locked behind them.

The minute he heard the buzz of the lock McCoy rounded on his 'friend'. (Could you call someone a friend after just a week? _Should_ you call someone that when they'd just gotten you arrested?) McCoy's eye was smarting and he was working himself up for a good shouting match. Except Jim looked utterly pathetic when McCoy turned toward him. The kid had collapsed onto a bench, one hand pinching his still bleeding nose, big, blue and remorseful eyes turned towards McCoy.

"I'm so sorry, Bones, seriously." His voice was thick from his stuffed nose and he sounded honestly upset. "I didn't think it would kick off like that. Don't worry, I'll make sure it doesn't go on your record. I'll explain it was all on me, I'll have you left out of it." He was close to babbling now and blood was oozing out of his nose as he sat up.

McCoy sighed, putting a hand up to stop him. "Calm down, kid, it doesn't matter. I'm a big boy, I'm responsible for myself. Now let me see that nose." (He didn't realise it but that was the moment – when he gave in to the big, sad eyes. There was no going back then.)

Jim's nose, though a sight to see, actually wasn't broken. McCoy had a handkerchief to stem the blood flow and there was nothing else to be done for it. A quick poke at his own face confirmed what McCoy already knew – the guy who hit him was a light-weight. The doctor sat down on the bench, knee and shoulder almost touching his companion for lack of space.

"So what do we do now?"

Jim gave a small smile and nodded in the direction of the door. "They'll be in in a minute and then I get my phone call and get us out of here."

McCoy gave him a sideways look. "This isn't your first time, is it?"

He would have liked to be able to say Jim's smile was a little regretful but in reality it was probably closer to nostalgic. "Hardly. Is it yours?"

"Yes – they don't take too kindly to doctors who land themselves in jail on a regular basis."

Jim hummed, some of his energy seemed to be returning to him. "Yeah, I guess they wouldn't. They aren't all that fond of it in the Academy either, but don't worry, I'll smooth it out."

McCoy gave him another sideways glance, taking in the utter assurance that was practically oozing off the younger man. "We've only been here a week, kid, how many friends in Record Keeping can you have made? Or do you have some old uncle who's an Admiral that you haven't told me about?"

"Something like that." Jim nearly laughed. McCoy knew nothing of his family history with Starfleet. It had only been a week, after all, and Kirk wasn't that unusual a name. McCoy looked like he was going to ask more questions but the door buzzed open right then and a uniformed officer entered, throwing them both a bored glance.

"Do either of you need medical attention?" he asked.

Jim grinned at him in a rather obnoxious way. "Already got it. I'll just take my phone call, thanks."

The officer grunted in response and then gave McCoy a questioning look. McCoy shook his head, happy to leave this to Jim, if the kid thought he could fix it all for them. Jim followed the officer out and McCoy sat in silence for a few minutes, wondering at the life choices that had led him to a jail cell with a 22 year old hot shot for a friend and a building full of disapproving Starfleet officers to go home to. By the time he'd decided that he really needed to quit drinking Jim was back, grin firmly in place as he practically threw himself back onto the bench.

"Just about fifteen minutes to wait now, Bones."

In fact it was seven and a half minutes before the door opened again and the officer stood out of the way of an older man. An older man McCoy unfortunately recognised right away.

"Captain Pike!" Jim sounded for all the world like he had invited their superior officer over for tea. "Thanks for making it so fast."

Pike gave Jim a once over, glanced in McCoy's direction and then raised one eyebrow, a faintly amused expression on his face. "I was already out looking for you, as it happens, or it would have taken me longer."

Jim looked a little confused at that, and not at all cowed like he should given that one of their bosses was standing with him in a jail cell. "What do you mean you were already out looking? Did the system patch stop working?" And holy god, did he really just admit to hacking Starfleet security so he could go drinking? That was it – McCoy was obviously friends with an insane person.

Pike didn't seem angry though, if anything his face was mildly disappointed. "It worked – after a fashion. It shows up the recurring flaw in your work, Kirk – you don't think beyond the immediate." His voice had taken on lecturing tone, as if he and Jim were discussing a class project in his office. What was wrong with McCoy's life? "The patch made it look like you were both in your dorm – a neat piece of programming, sure." Jim gave him a grin. "But it also erased your previous movements – and I since I know you haven't been in your room for the last seven days straight, it was obvious what you had done."

"Of course." Jim's eyebrows were pulled together in a frown. "It overrode the original program completely – stupid of me, it needs a more targeted subroutine."

"It's like I said, Kirk, you go head first into things – that's going to cost you in your classes. You need to think of it like a game of chess, and yes, I know you play. You want to be a Captain, you need to be three moves ah-"

"I'm sorry," McCoy's mouth was moving on its own while his brain told him to 'shut up, you're in enough trouble already'. "Can we skip the field trip lecture, some of us would like to leave."

Both men turned near identical stares on him. McCoy definitely did not find it intimidating – he was a grown man, for god's sake, and a doctor at that. He could handle some jumped up hot shots. Even if one of those hot shots was actually considerably older than him, not to mention his superior.

Pike gave him an assessing look before turning back to Jim. "This would be Dr. McCoy, whom you told me about then? I see what you mean."

Jim just chuckled, "Yeah, this is Bones. I'd like to say he's being rude because we got arrested, but actually he's been like this all the time so far. He's got a point though, we should probably go." The first flicker of doubt showed on Jim's face. "What are you going to do about this, sir? I can explain, and even though it wasn't either of our faults, it really wasn't Bones', he was defending me."

"Hey now kid." McCoy wasn't about to let someone jump under a bus for him. "I make my own decisions," he turned to Pike, "If he's in trouble then so am I. Even though it wasn't our fault."

Pike glanced between the two of them, his face vaguely amused. He settled on McCoy. "I'm glad to see Kirk has managed to find himself a loyal friend – you might find that loyalty tested. _A lot_." He then looked back at Jim. "I already got the short version from one of the officers outside. I'm willing to let this slide. But Kirk – I don't need to tell you that this can't become a regular thing. It took some pull to get you here, if you mess that up there isn't anything I can do for you."

McCoy watched Jim pull his shoulders back and look more serious than he had in the whole first week of training. "I know, sir, I do. I made you a promise, I am going to keep it."

Pike just shook his head. "You keep telling yourself that, son, maybe we'll all start to believe it. Now come on, you've been AWOL long enough for one night."

McCoy was never really able to look at Pike the same way after that night.


	13. The New Girl

**A/N: I'm sure you'll all be delighted to here that this is yet another story that was supposed to be a whole long thing but then died half way through and is now a one-shot. In fairness, I might write more about Janice, she's fun. So maybe consider this an introduction. And then hound me if you want to hear more about her. I just thought it would be interesting to see her joining the ship – I'm really disappointed she wasn't in STID, maybe the third one right? Anyway, she was always kind of prime and proper and a bit shy in the Original Series, so I thought she might be fun in this nu!verse. Here's what I've got so far... (I swear I'll write more).**

Janice Rand wasn't sure how she felt, really. She was excited, of course – she had just been given the assignment of the century after all. She was going to serve on the Enterprise, the new flagship, crewed by the men and women who had saved Earth from destruction at the hands of Nero. Almost no new appointments had been made to the ship, as the original crew had all been kept on in their assignments. The few spots available – secondary medical officer, a few engineering positions, one or two openings in security, and Captain's Yeoman – had been greatly sought after. That made her nervous because it meant there was a lot riding on this – the higher ups had picked her for a reason, though she wasn't totally sure what that would have been. Yes, she would probably fit in well with the very green crew – she had five years experience, enough to be useful to an untrained team, but she was only 27, not too old to alienate her in a crew of graduates. But she had worked primarily on Starbases, as well as doing some work at the Academy. Now she was setting off on a five year mission aboard a ship. It was a big change. But wasn't that why she had joined Starfleet? To have a life full of change and excitement? That was what she had dreamed of as a little girl. Not that Captain's Yeoman was the most exciting job out there – mostly it involved filing and organising and taking conference calls. Janice had always been told that she was good at organising other people's lives (usually not in the most complimentary tones) so this job suited her. She was looking forward to working aboard the Enterprise – a young and dynamic crew, not to mention a legendary Captain (legendary after just one mission) were sure to keep her in her toes. Still...a lot riding on this.

She shook herself mentally as the shuttle started final approach. The Enterprise loomed before them, filling the windows of the shuttle from where it lay in spacedock. It was, in Janice's admittedly limited experience, an usually beautiful ship. A wide, sweeping silver body, the name just visible as her shuttle came closer. Lights were on in most of the windows, she could even make out the occasional, very small, shadow moving past the lit squares. This was to be her home, probably for the next five years.

Suddenly time, which had been dragging on the shuttle, seemed to speed up and Janice somehow found herself in a turbolift on her way to the Captain's office. Her bags, she had been assured, were going in the opposite direction towards her quarters. Everyone else had peeled off to report to whomever they were working for and she was alone in the lift. She couldn't help but tug at her uniform, stiff and new, and try to smooth her hair in the reflection of the lift's walls. She quickly replaced her hands at her sides as the doors opened, though they revealed an empty corridor. All of the ship seemed to look pretty much the same, or at least Janice couldn't see any difference in this corridor to the one she had entered the lift from. It was going to take a lot of time, she imagined, to stop opening incorrect doors and having to set out early for somewhere just to arrive on time. The Captain's office, at least, was easy to find, since it had a neat little plaque outside the door which read: James T. Kirk, Captain. As if the whole cosmos didn't already know who James T. Kirk was.

Janice took one more steadying breath – it was just a Captain, like any other Captain. Yes, she would have to work intimately with him and he had a reputation for jumping into bed with anything that moved. But he was supposed to be charming as well, and those who had met him after the Nero attacks had had only good things to say about him. It would be fine.

She forced herself to reach out and press the buzzer, just to the left of the plaque. The sound could only be heard faintly through the door and there was a pause. Normally the person inside would call out a reply and then open the door, so Janice forgave herself for taking a quick step backwards as the door simply slid open with no summons having come from inside. In fact, as she poked her head in the door, there didn't seem to be anyone here at all. Or not...

"Bones! Thank god! Took you long enough!" The voice, young and slightly stressed sounding, at first appeared to be coming from thin air. Then Janice's brain caught up and supplied her with the knowledge that it was coming from behind the large metal desk near the back of the room. She only really registered that before the voice sounded again. "Don't just stand there, Bones, help me! I can't feel my leg any more and it's dusty down here!"

Before Janice could do anything, not that she really knew what to do, she was unceremoniously pushed out of the doorway and into the room as a blue shape moved past her. The man (because it was a man in a blue shirt) was tall and well built, with dark brown hair and quite an impressive frown on his face. The frown only deepened as he moved behind the desk, reached down and pulled out...the Captain?

Janice had, of course, seen holovids and still shots of Earth's saviour. And that was definitely him, dirty blond hair and gold shirt, sitting on the floor where the other man had dragged him. His face was set in a grimace as he stared up at his rescuer.

"My leg is killing me, Bones." He gave the offending limb a weak shake.

The older man – Bones? What kind of a name was that? – grunted unsympathetically as he put his hands under Kirk's arms and hauled him to his feet, taking most of his weight while he pulled him around and dumped him in the desk chair. "Well it's probably completely seized up. How long were you under there? Or more importantly – what the hell were you doing under your desk?"

"I dropped my stylus." Kirk held up the small pen triumphantly as Bones dropped to his knees and started poking at Kirk's leg. It was when the Captain turned slightly to throw the stylus on the desk that he finally noticed Janice. She had a brief moment of guilt for more or less eavesdropping for the last few minutes but she was really just trying to process everything that was happening in front of her. Kirk gave her a glance before turning back to the other man. "Is that a new nurse, Bones?" (That couldn't be his real name) "I don't recognise her."

The man just shook his head, not even looking up. "She's not one of mine. She was standing in the doorway when I arrived."

Janice found herself pinned down by impossibly blue eyes (the women who'd giggled when they'd found out who she'd be working for hadn't been wrong about the eyes), but that didn't excuse Kirk and this other man from speaking about her like she wasn't there. Janice drew herself up, took a step further into the centre of the room and came smartly to attention. "My name is Janice Rand, sir." She felt it would not be frowned upon to look Kirk in the eye, although it did go against their training. "I'm your new Yeoman, sir, reporting for duty."

Kirk looked her up and down for a second before smiling. "Oh, yes, my new Yeoman. Sorry about not recognising you – I thought you weren't arriving 'til Tuesday."

There was a pause. "It is Tuesday, sir."

Kirk just stared at her. "But the new recruits are arriving on Tuesday."

"They arrived an hour ago, Jim." The other man stood, moving around the desk. He gave Janice an appraising look and crossed his arms. "I'm Dr. Leonard McCoy, CMO. We'll need to have a discussion about Jim's allergies if you're to be the kid's babysitter."

Kirk was absently rubbing his leg. "She's not a babysitter, Bones, be nice." He then stood, only wincing a little as he took his own weight, "Did they really arrive an hour ago? Damn, I was going to go down and greet them off the shuttle. Why didn't Spock tell me?"

McCoy (at least Janice didn't have to think of him as 'Bones' any more) just gave Kirk a very patronising look. "While I'm not his biggest fan even I don't think it's fair to blame him for presuming you could tell the days of the week. He's probably holed up in that lab of his anyway."

"Mmm." Kirk looked genuinely annoyed with himself for not being in the shuttle bay. Janice found it nice that he had wanted to meet the new members of his crew, even though most were only low ranking staff.

"I can have them all come and report here if you want to meet them, sir," she found herself saying.

Kirk gave her an appraising look that she would like to think had a hint of approval in it. "Yeah? Well that would be perfect – have them here in thirty minutes."

It took her 27 minutes to track down everyone from her shuttle and have them all report to the Captain's office. Kirk rewarded her with an apple – an honest to god apple that he pulled out of the drawer in his desk as soon as the new recruits had left – "That was good work, Rand, you've impressed me. Here, have this." (This was where he had thrown the apple to her). "And have the rest of the day off. You'll need to unpack and all that stuff. I'll see you tomorrow morning, 0900."

She left him pulling a bottle of something that definitely wasn't apple juice out of the same drawer and comming Dr. McCoy.

STSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTST

It was a strange way to meet a Captain, certainly. But Janice quickly realised that having James Kirk be pulled out from under a desk by McCoy, not knowing what day of the week it was and giving her an apple as a reward for a job well done was actually a pretty good introduction to life on the Enterprise. Things only got more bizarre from then on and she had little choice but to go with it.

McCoy did indeed give her a talk on the Captain's allergies. In fact, he had her report to Medical on her first morning, having told her Kirk knew she wouldn't be in his office until 10. Janice was pretty sure she wouldn't really have gotten out in one hour (the list of foods the Captain couldn't eat was terrifyingly long) except that they were interrupted after fifty minutes by a crowd of singed red shirts. Janice managed to ascertain that there had been an explosion in Engineering and made a quick exit from Medical, running most of the way to the Captain's office, knowing she would be needed. Except when she got there she found Kirk playing a game of chess by himself and decidedly unconcerned that some or all of his engine room could be on fire.

"Oh don't worry about it." Kirk was literally making a dismissive gesture with one hand, the other was moving his knight forward. "Scotty has it under control, I'm sure."

Janice had to take a deep breath to make sure the next words out of her mouth remained respectful. "But Captain. There was an explosion. In the engine room. Of _this ship_." Okay, so maybe that wasn't as respectful as it could have been, Kirk didn't seem to care either way, he just gave a small huff of laughter before looking up at her.

"Rand, there's something you're going to need to understand if you want to avoid having a nervous breakdown two weeks into this job." Here Kirk pushed the chessboard aside, signalling for her to sit while leaning forward, giving her his full attention for what felt like the first time. "I got this job," He made a general gesture around his office, "Having illegally boarded this ship – twice – and then goaded Spock into beating me up. I picked Scotty up from banishment on Delta Vega and snuck him aboard with me. McCoy signed up for the 'fleet while he was so drunk he spelled his own name wrong on the forms. Half of the women under 25 on this ship have slept with me – that's something we don't talk about, by the way. I'm sorry to have to tell you this, but if you're going to work here then the best thing to do would be to forget everything you know about Starfleet protocol right now. I might be the Captain but I trust my crew to make their own decisions. And we follow orders but our work boils down to doing what seems right in any given situation." Kirk seemed to be getting into this little speech as he now stood and faced her at parade rest. "There aren't many certainties in this line of work, Rand, but let me tell you that at least one fire a week in Engineering is one of them. Also, that Bones will make someone cry this month and that we'll find a planet no one else has ever found and then wish we hadn't – but that's besides the point." He interrupted himself and levelled a serious look at her. "That's the truth of it, Rand. I only want you to stay if you think you can handle that. If you can't, then that's fine. I'll find you the best assignment I can and have you placed there. That's your choice." When Kirk stopped speaking he simply stood, giving her his unnervingly blue stare.

Janice...Janice thought about her time at Starfleet so far, pushing papers around for very important people. She thought about the little girl who wanted to feel scared, wanted to jump into the darkness. She thought about how she was probably going to regret what she was about to do. Then she stood, facing the Captain.

"Well, alright then sir. Shall I gather a status report from Engineering for you?"

Kirk's face split into a very boyish grin as he threw himself back into his chair. "And one from Medical as well, Yeoman, thank you. Dismissed."

In fact she regretted that decision about seven minutes later when she got to meet 'Scotty' for the first time – the man was trying to save an illegal distillery while completely ignoring the fact that his arm was on fire.


End file.
